Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,27

something else if you want. I can get on Netflix if you give me your Wi-Fi password.”

I snorted. “Nice try, Mata Hari.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, I’m a terribly sophisticated hacker. All I need is your Wi-Fi password and I’ll rule the world!”

I threw a chip at him. It bounced off his arm and Jack snatched it out of midair.

We pulled the lounge chairs close together to watch the movie on Billy’s laptop, the umbrella shading the screen. The movie was entertaining in an overdramatic, retro gothic kind of way. But I was distracted by how close I was to Billy. His bare upper arm was only inches away from my shirted one. His skin pebbled in the slightest breeze. It made me think about how sensitive his skin must be. How much more would it respond to touch?

Then there was how stunning those clear brown eyes were at this distance, and the amusement in them and . . . heat . . . when he glanced my way from time to time.

Oh, yes. Billy wanted me. I’d suspected as much, but I always told myself he was just being nice, that he was naturally warm and friendly. Today, however, the sizzle of attraction was impossible to miss—and brighter than the sun.

For the first time I thought . . . maybe?

Maybe.

That maybe was like opening up a chink in the dam on a deep, flooding river—waters murky and tide relentless.

Objectively, Billy was earnest, hardworking, enthusiastic, and fresh. Bright as a new penny coin, as Father used to say. Objectively, he was a person worthy of the positive regard of anyone with half a brain in their head.

But my response to him wasn’t that simple. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d had a strange fixation with him from the start, even when he was just a stranger biking up my hill, and I’d felt drawn to be by the gate to see him, watching him from the shadows like some creepy lurker.

That fixation had only grown since he started working here, until I now only felt at ease when he was on the property and time seemed to crawl when he was away. I liked to be able to look out the window and see him, even if I had to move around the house to achieve that reassuring sight. It comforted me somehow. Made me feel less alone, less dark, less steeped in my own misery.

I wanted to do things for him, all the time.

I let him talk me into things. While I tried to keep him at arm’s length, what I really craved was to draw him closer. Hell, it had made me so happy today to spend the day with him, not working, just hanging out as if we did this all the time.

Who knew my type was long and leggy? Well, I guess I had known that, in women anyway. But I’d never dated a guy with that body type. His coloring, however—dark hair and pale skin—had always been a weakness of mine. And his face . . . it was the sort of face he’d grow into, a bit raw-boned now, but it still wouldn’t be amiss on a Benetton ad. It had that unique sort of beauty. Especially with those eyes.

No, my feelings about him were definitely not platonic. And that was dangerous. Not because I didn’t trust Billy. But I was in no shape, mentally or physically, to take another blow to the heart. Which would be the inevitable outcome. He was only twenty-one, nine years younger than me. And twenty-one to thirty was a whole lifetime’s worth of experiences.

Then again, a voice in my head reasoned, who out there could relate to the experiences I’d had? The accident, rehabilitation? The pain, the slap in the face with mortality? Losing my father? The scars? The horrible guilt? Few people my own age would relate to that either.

We also came from different backgrounds. But how many people with backgrounds similar to mine had I hooked up with in the past? Dozens? Hundreds? And none of them had stuck. And I didn’t live like that anymore.

The truth was, my life now was a brave new world in every way. Perhaps none of the normal rules around love and sex applied—if any such rules ever had been immutable in the face of genuine, inexplicable, chemicals-gone-mad attraction.

On my part, obviously. On his?

I’d have to be blind not to see that he was interested. And I had enough